


A Muted Drum

by nivu_vu



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Abuse of Subspace, Anal Sex, Bad Dom/Sub Overtones, Inundation of Intense Bastardry, M/M, Oral Sex, Praise Kink, Semi-Public Sex, Very Minor Blood, circa-season 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:33:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22064077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nivu_vu/pseuds/nivu_vu
Summary: Elias has games he likes to play in his office. But Jon can't play if he doesn't know the rules.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 5
Kudos: 151
Collections: End-of-Year Exchange 2019





	A Muted Drum

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ZaliaChimera](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZaliaChimera/gifts).



“Jon. Are you with me?”

Jon nods, tries to say, yes. He doesn’t understand why it’s always so difficult to focus when he’s with Elias. And it’s been getting even more difficult lately, sooner, too. It used to take… more (Elias bending him over his desk, pinning him by the wrists, tying him down, hand twisting in his hair as his mouth is used).

Now - Jon sits on his knees between Elias’s legs, hidden beneath the coverage of Elias’s desk, and his thoughts have already slipped away. He wonders vaguely if this is some Beholding poison Elias has been inoculating him with overtime, building up in his system until it’s reached its current potency. He certainly _feels_ under the influence of something, sluggish and inebriated. Elias’s hand tugs his hair but lightly before Jon is mouthing at Elias over his pants. It doesn’t do anything for Jon himself besides drag him under more. He’s relaxed and unfocused for the first time since-

He can’t remember right now.

Elias is growing hard against his lips and tongue, and there’s a distant disgust souring the edges of Jon’s mind. He doesn’t remember liking this.

“You’re doing so well, Jon.”

When did he start liking this.

Elias pulls Jon’s head back enough to undo his belt and pants. Jon doesn’t move while he waits for Elias to free his cock. 

The moment in between the end of that and the next stretches too long, like a dream or a nightmare. That disgust curls uglier around him. It pounds against his skull, but he can’t feel it save for an ambient rhythm just an inch out of reach. Words bleed through with each pulse, and he realizes only after he speaks that he’s said them:

“I don’t want to do this.”

And even he recognizes how petulant he sounds.

“I know you can be good for me,” says Elias, which makes Jon shift uncomfortably.

He can’t say why.

Elias has use for his mouth right now anyways (kissing, licking, sucking). There’s a burning numb in his stomach, down to his thighs. It hums pleasantly in the background. Jon’s eyelids grow heavy.

He drowses in limbo until Elias shoves his way past the aperture of his throat, and it sickens(?) Jon that he doesn’t have it in him to gag. He’s held there, breathing shallowly, as someone opens the door and walks in.

_Panic_ , Jon tells himself. He slams the word into his head again and again, but he _can’t_. There’s no grip in his attempts to wrap his mind around it, and it slips away every time. So he sits, breathing, waiting, as someone he doesn’t recognize talks with Elias, who has since removed his hand.

He could move. He could _leave_.

He tells himself more than once, and he _could_ leave. He knows that part. But he can’t want to.

He allows Elias to stay in his mouth. What little focus he’s able to manage goes towards continuing to breathe - and listen.

Jon hears every word clearly, but none stays in his head. He can recall only Elias’s voice, smooth and professionally clipped, and Jon drifts again. The other person has most likely long left by the time Elias gives Jon his mouth back. Jon coughs once. His jaw hurts a little, his knees more.

“Very good,” Elias says, and the pain seems a bit further away.

Elias helps Jon to his feet,. then sits him on the edge of the desk. He gently lays Jon down back on the wood. Jon doesn’t want this either; Elias silences those thoughts with a kiss that makes him too breathless. That burning spreads up his diaphragm, and it’s that much harder to take in any air.

Elias positions Jon’s hands above his head and strips him of his bottoms (Jon didn’t know he was hard, too). When Elias starts fingering his hole with lube (that he must keep handy in his desk), the heat grows hot enough to turn cold. The ice crystalizes in Jon’s lungs, and he shudders, shivers throughout the process of Elias spreading him open.

Words break through the veil he’s wrapped in again, sharper this time - _no stop don’t do this_.

Elias’s expression remains neutral, and Jon can’t tell if he’s said anything aloud.. Elias doesn’t even meet Jon’s eyes. There is only a slight twitch in his brow as he curls two fingers into Jon’s prostate. He doesn’t acknowledge the gasp he forces out of Jon. The preamble runs out then, and Elias lines himself up with Jon’s hole and takes him inexorably slow.

He steals moans from Jon’s voice and gives thanks in platitudes that Jon _doesn’t_ want to hear. He doesn’t want to hear about how obedient he’s been. How tight he still is. How wonderful he sounds. How beautiful he looks.

As if this is anything but ugly. He wants to spit back at Elias, spit out the poison that his mind is too deeply steeped in. The frost is heavy, though, and Jon is sure he’s suffocating.

He comes embarrassingly quickly, not that that stops Elias from playing out the moment. It’s leisure for Elias to make sure each stroke alights Jon’s body with overstimulation, bringing him close to clarity but not through. And Elias talks. He doesn’t seem to run out of ways to describe the way Jon amazes him. His voice is less clipped, less professional. His words are allowed to be drawn and his sentences contiguous. If he’s breathless, too, Jon barely notices. His own panting is dangerously loud in his ears.

Elias’s fingers are bruising, but they remain the only thing harsh. Even the jolts of overstimulation are too soft and growing softer. He almost wishes Elias _would_ hurt him.

“Oh, Jon,” Elias says, all smiles suddenly, “you’ve come so far.”

Jon doesn’t understand - Elias fucks him roughly now, and Jon still doesn’t understand. Elias pins Jon’s wrists down with one hand, bruising again; with the other, he bends one of Jon’s legs. It forces Jon’s body to twist slightly, and the new angle grinds his pelvis against the hard wood of the desk.

It hurts, like he asked, though he’s no closer to clarity. Not until Elias rakes his nails down the length of Jon’s thigh. He draws blood and drops Jon’s leg in favor of pressing the side of his head into the desk. Maybe it’s the feeling of his own blood leaking down his leg. Maybe it’s the taste of it as Elias’s thumb slips against his lips. Whatever it is, Jon is _awake_. He’s awake and scared, and - _god_ \- he’s about to come again.

He knows - as confused as he’s been about all preceding events - he knows that it’s his _awareness_ that pushes Elias over the edge.

Elias comes deep inside him, and Jon swears he feels it, because it tips him over into his own orgasm.

He’s pathetic.

They stay like that and breathe. Jon’s sore all over. He almost wishes for the numbness again.

Finally, Elias disengages them. He fixes his clothes enough to collapse back into his chair, looking too kempt and unkempt at the same time. Jon eventually slides gracelessly to the floor beside Elias’s feet. He digs his fingers into his eyes, to dig something out, perhaps, he’s not sure.

Elias leans forward and cards a hand gently through Jon’s hair. He says, just as gently, “You’ve learned a lot, you know.”

“Fuck you,” Jon indulges, because he can.

Elias smiles, but doesn’t offer anything else. And Jon stays until he’s dismissed.

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly this should be tagged slice of life. Rip Jon.
> 
> Happy New Year, Zalia!! Here's one half of your gift, which..... has nothing to even do with the other... ANYWAYS!! Here's to a great 2020!!!


End file.
